


Under Your Touch

by lilbluednacer



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Fluff, Massage Therapist Oliver
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-26
Updated: 2020-03-26
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:34:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23319955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilbluednacer/pseuds/lilbluednacer
Summary: Felicity throws out her neck. Lucky for her Sara knows a guy who can fix anything.
Relationships: Oliver Queen/Felicity Smoak
Comments: 34
Kudos: 217





	Under Your Touch

**Author's Note:**

> Full disclosure, I wrote this like four years ago and let it sit for so long I forget it even existed until I found it a few days ago. ¯\\_(ツ)_/

It starts with Sara.

Well, it actually starts with a pen, but Felicity prefers to blame Sara, who waltzes into Felicity's office sometime after lunch sucking down an ice coffee.

"Oh my god!" she cries, whipping off her aviators. "What happened?"

Felicity waves up at Sara from where she's lying on the floor. "I hurt my neck."

Sara cocks a hip. "Uh huh. Yeah, I can see that."

"I dropped a pen," Felicity explains. “And when I reached down to get it my chair slid, and my body went right and my head went left, and then everything whipped the other way, and my neck went like this."

Felicity holds her hands up in the air and pantomimes a choking motion.

"That's it," Sara says, pulling out her cellphone. "You're seeing my guy."

"Sara, I swear to god, if you send me to a hooker-"

"Oliver's not a hooker. He's a massage therapist, and he's brilliant. Seriously, he went to China for a while and studied all these techniques over there, and Russia too, he can do everything. I've known him since we were kids, and you are going to make an appointment with him and tell him that he is under strict orders to fix you."

"You think he can fix my neck?"

"Oh honey." Sara smirks at her. "Oliver can fix anything."

*

On Thursday Felicity inhales a carton of pad thai standing up at her desk and leaves the office for her seven pm massage appointment.

Oliver Queen shares an office with two physical therapists and an acupuncturist. The walls of the waiting room are painted a soothing sage green and there are cream colored chairs along one wall. There's a criminally beautiful young guy sitting behind the front desk. Felicity tries not to blush as she approaches, thinking that if Oliver is even a tenth as good looking as this kid is she's totally screwed.

"Hi," she says. "I have a seven o'clock with Oliver Queen?"

"Your name?"

"Felicity Smoak."

"Hi. I'm Roy." He flashes a smile before typing her name into the computer. "Fill these out." He pushes a clipboard and a pen at her. "Oliver'll be out to bring you back in a minute."

Felicity sits down in a chair and fills out a new patient form. She draws a line through the neck of a little print of a Vitruvian man, arms outstretched towards the circle around him, indicating where she feels pain. 

She's writing a brief explanation of how she got hurt when the most beautiful man she's ever seen walks in from a hallway behind the front desk. He's tall and muscular, which she can see through his simple light grey v-neck and jeans. His hair is sandy blond and short, and his eyes are very blue.

If that's Oliver then Felicity is completely screwed. 

"Your seven o'clock is here," Roy says to him. Yup. Screwed. "And you owe me dinner for making me stay late."

Oliver rolls his eyes and pulls a twenty out of his pocket. "Don't be rude just because you're hungry," he admonishes gently.

Roy gives Felicity a brilliant smile that makes her giggle. "Sorry," he apologizes, and pouts at Oliver. "I'm really hungry."

"Come back when you're done. You have to finish charting," Oliver tells Roy.

"Yeah, yeah." Roy snatches the twenty out of Oliver's hand and flips the hood of his red sweatshirt up as he walks out of the office.

"Sorry," Oliver apologizes. "He's a good kid, I swear. Just has it a little rough."

He holds out his hand to shake hers and she shivers at his firm grip. "Hi," he says. "Oliver Queen."

"Felicity." He takes her patient form and gives her a smile that makes her nerves churn.

Oh god, is that a dimple?

"Come on back," he says, and she follows him down the hall and into a small room with a massage table set up in the middle.

Oliver's eyes skim over her form before setting it on the counter that runs along one wall. "So," he says, leaning back casually against the counter. "What's going on Felicity?"

"Um, well, my friend Sara referred me? Sara Lance?"

"You're Sara's Felicity?" Oliver looks pleased at this revelation.

"She told you about me?"

Oliver gives her a warm smile that she feels all the way down to her toes. "She talks about you all the time."

Felicity raises an eyebrow. "Really? Because she hasn't said anything about you."

Oliver looks bashful. "Sara's a bit protective when it comes to me."

Felicity nods, wiping sweaty palms on the flared purple skirt of her dress. "Yeah, she's a good friend."

"So," Oliver says, glancing back at her form. "You're having problems with your neck?"

"Yeah, I threw it out last week. Sara found me on the floor of my office. She was rather insistent that I come here."

"Alright, let's take a look. Take off your shoes please."

She steps out of her heels and Oliver stands Felicity in front of a full length mirror. She watches his eyes look at her, feeling nervous when he frowns.

"Hmm," Oliver says. "Can you walk for me?"

She does a lap around the massage table, trying not to feel silly, and comes back around to stand in front of him facing the mirror.

"You do something with computers, right?" His hands skim her hips, palms flat and facing the floor, like he's trying to see how her hipbones line up.

"Yeah, I'm in IT."

"Neck problems are pretty common with my patients in that line of work."

His hands come up, fingertips light on her back and chest. "You're a little collapsed here." His fingers skim under her collarbone and Felicity feels her pulse jump.

"Is that bad?" she breathes.

"Your diaphragm is a little compressed right now. It's also pulling your shoulders down, which is putting additional strain on your neck."

Fingers on her chest pull up while the ones on her back push down. "You should really be more like here. Are you a shallow breather?"

"Like, right now? Or, um, generally speaking. I don't know, I guess I've never noticed."

Oliver nods, his hands coming back down to her hips. "I think the real issue here is your pelvis. Your hip joints are very tight." His hands come around to the small of her back. "Yeah, your sacrum feels pretty jammed too. Common with people who have desk jobs." 

"What does that have to do with my neck?"

Oliver's reflection smiles in the mirror. "Everything's connected, Felicity. Neck problems are often a symptom of something going on here." He pats her hip lightly and steps away.

"Let's get you on the table. You can leave your underwear on," he offers, and steps out of the room to let her change in privacy.

Felicity's hands tremble as she takes off her dress, thanking the universe and her mother that she’s wearing a nice pair of blue silk boy shorts. She climbs onto the table and lies down on her back, pulling the thin cotton sheet up to her chin.

Okay, so she's practically naked and hidden only by a sheet. Okay, so Oliver is gorgeous and going to touch her practically naked body. She doesn't know if she should kill Sara or buy her a gift basket.

_Get it together, Smoak._

There's a light knock on the door. "How're we doing?"

"I'm ready," she calls out, trying to ignore how vulnerable she feels like this.

Oliver comes back in and stands at her right side. "Okay?"

"Yeah," she says, and then admits, "I'm kind of nervous. I'm a virgin." _Oh god_. She cringes. "I mean a massage virgin."

"Don't worry," Oliver says, and puts a warm hand on her shoulder. "You're safe with me."

He spends an hour and a half working on her, soft music playing from the speaker dock on the counter. It's the strangest thing Felicity's ever done, well, aside from that one pot brownie in college. He moves her limbs around while she lies on her back, testing things in her body she didn't know existed. He pulls her arms at weird angles and makes notes on a clipboard. He pushes her knees out to the sides to stretch her hips, his fingers moving slowly down her inner thighs, apologizing when she winces.

It's strange, watching him, the way his eyes will shut, his fingers resting lightly on the inside of her leg or her neck, head tilted, like he's listening to something only he can hear. He does a lot of these little tests, examining her alignment, the mobility of her hips and neck on the table, before moving on to the actual massage. He seems to know where her edge is before she does herself, backing off when the intensity starts to feel too much without her having to ask him to stop. When it's finally over she feels wrung out, but in a good way. She's sleepy and warm all over, she really can't remember the last time she felt this relaxed.

"I'll let you get dressed and we can talk out front, okay? Take your time getting off the table,” he tells her.

Once he’s shut the door Felicity carefully slides off the table and walks back to the counter where she left her clothes, and puts her dress back on. She feels different somehow, but she can't tell how much of it is from what Oliver did to her and how much of it is just Oliver.

"So," Oliver says cheerfully, when she's made her way back to the front desk. "The good news is, I can definitely fix your neck. The bad news is you're stuck with me for a while. I want to start with six sessions and see how that goes, okay?"

"I wouldn't call that bad news," she says faintly, and Oliver grins like the Chesire cat.

Goddamnit. Now Felicity’s going to have to send Sara a gift basket.


End file.
